


Ink

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Series: Zeroverse [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Falling In Love, Injury Recovery, M/M, Phoenix - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Tattoo, Tattoo Sleeve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Malik gets his tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere set in 'Freefall' - no spoilers.

“And you're sure about this?”

 

“I'm pretty sure, yes.” Malik looked up sternly at Altair. “Don't try to patronize me,” he added as his fingers already moved down button after button so he could take off his shirt while the tattooist was preparing the ink and tattoo machine, placing gloves neatly one next to each other as well as a fresh pack of swabs. She mostly ignored Altair's and Malik's conversation.

 

“I'm not,” Altair said and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the wall next to Malik. “I think I'm just still not used to the idea of you getting a sleeve,” he said with a small smile. “But I really like the idea, I just don't want you to regret anything.”

 

“I won't,” Malik muttered and he only exposed his right arm and shoulder but didn't do so with the left one. Even one year after his accident and brother's death, Malik still wasn't ready to show too much of his stump. Altair couldn't blame him nor would he ever do so. He'd caught up a little with Malik's condition and had read several books about it, it was called post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, something that often occurred to soldiers after they came back from deployment aboard or victims of sexual assault or other crimes. A condition which was characterized by nightmares and flashbacks, the re-living of what had happened triggered by things as banal as a noise or a scent. For Malik, a trigger could be the sound of screeching tires. Sometimes his bad memories were caused by a song playing in the radio, a song Kadar had liked to hear or which reminded him of his younger brother. On other days though, a trigger could be Malik smelling somebody wearing the same cologne Kadar had liked as well. Either way, Malik woke up almost every night from nightmares, was fighting against his trauma on a daily basis and him wanting to get a tattoo of a phoenix was something Altair thought was only fitting. Malik needed a symbol that he'd survived and that life was still going on – a very different life but earth just didn't came to a stop, and that with every new dawn came a new day and with every new dusk a new night just as well. Yes, life went on and Malik needed something permanent, needed this to remind himself he was still here, still alive, risen like the phoenix from its ashes. The tattoo would cover his shoulder and complete right arm, all the way down to the wrist and Malik had spent a couple of months to come up with a design. He'd told Altair about it only a few weeks ago. To be exactly, he'd told Altair he'd like to go out one day but what Altair hadn't known was that 'going out' had meant going to the tattoo artist Malik had chosen to get his arm done. Malik had settled for a small studio with currently only two tattoo artist. One of them was Jen and Malik had fallen in love with her works. He'd handed her over his sketch and two weeks later, he and Altair had come back to see what Jen had made of it and today... Well, today was the day Jen would start working on Malik. They would only do the outlines, Jen had said it's going to take a few hours to do them and that she'd like to add the color in several sessions afterwards.

 

“Alright,” Jen said and turned towards Malik on a small stool, holding a razor up. “Time for you to get shaved.”

 

“If I had a dollar every time I heard a woman saying that to me,” Malik muttered with half a smirk and his gaze went sideways, looking up at Altair but Altair thought his eyes looked sad when he'd said it. He knew what Malik was referring to, it hadn't just been one surgery Malik had went through after his accident but several since his wound had gotten infected. At first, they had only amputated the part of his arm underneath his elbow but afterwards it had shown pretty quickly that Malik was infected with MRSA and they had to re-do the whole procedure, taking off more of his arm. Afterwards, Malik had to go into surgery a couple of times again to clean the wound.

 

Jen looked at his left, empty sleeve before she focused back onto shaving his arm. “So what happened?”, she simply asked because she wasn't dumb and could put one and one together, knowing the loss of Malik's arm was also the reason for him getting his tattoo today.

 

“Car accident,” Malik said and that alone was a victory because Altair remembered the time Malik hadn't even been able to let those words roll across his lips but instead pressed them tightly together before he would leash verbally at the person who had dared to ask him about his arm. At times he was still verbally aggressive for no reason but those times became less and less.

 

“I see,” Jen nodded and Altair thought it was a little grotesque how soft and warm her voice was when her looks seemed so... cold and hard. It was prejudice of him, he knew that but the many piercings in her face, the tattoos decorating almost every inch of her skin and the undercut as well as the dark green hair had made him thought differently of her in the first place.

 

“There,” she said next then and placed the razor away, her fingers moving down Malik's arm. “As smooth as a baby's ass. Let me get the outlines on you and then we can start,” she hummed as she was already wiping down his arm with alcohol. She held up the paper on which she'd drawn the phoenix and everything that was going with it, looking up at Altair. “It's going to take a while, are you sure you want to stand there all the time?” She nodded over her shoulder. “Get that chair. I don't assume you want to leave your friend alone? So you can just as well sit down,” she smirked before she went quiet, tongue sticking out between her lips as she focused on placing the paper correctly on Malik's arm.

 

Now that had hurt and it hurt every time it happened – Altair couldn't remember the last time Malik had referred to him as his boyfriend, significant other, partner or what the hell so ever. He wanted to say he'd gotten used to it but that would have been a lie. He hadn't gotten used to it but he'd also crossed the point of feeling like his heart was ripped out every time it happened and was no experiencing a small dull sensation in his lower stomach, a bitter taste that rose in his throat and which he swallowed quickly.

 

“Turn it a little,” Jen told Malik. “Yes like that.” Her fingers brushed over the paper and smoothed it out, then she pulled it away again, the ink staying on Malik's skin. “Take a look at the mirror and tell me if it's okay like that. I draw the rest on your arm freestyle,” she said and Malik got up, walking over to one of the large mirrors. Altair followed.

 

“What do you think?”, Malik asked.

 

Altair looked at his arm, “Well to me it's perfect but it's your arm and your skin.”

 

Malik frowned, then turned his arm to look at it from different angles until he nodded. “It's good,” he said, then glanced over his shoulder at Jen. “It can stay like that.”

 

“Good,” Jen nodded then gestured Malik to come back to her. “Have a seat and let's get started.” She took out her pen. “It would have been way too complicated otherwise,” she said. “I hold on to the sketch I showed you,” she explained as she took his arm and started drawing.

 

xxx

 

The needle had been buzzing for two hours when Malik finally looked at Altair and said, “I'm hungry.”

 

Altair felt a bit stiff himself and slowly straightened his back. “What do you want to have?” It was something he didn’t even have to think about, it just felt natural to want to get up and out in order to bring some food. “I saw a small coffee shop down the street when we came,” Malik said. “Sandwich sounds good.”

 

Altair nodded, “Jen, you want something?”

 

The tattoo artist stopped for a moment with moving her needle down Malik’s arm and pulled her surgical mask down. “Wow, really now?”

 

Altair looked behind him, eyebrows arched then back at Jen. “What?”

 

“You’re not the first to bring their friend food but you’re the first offering it to me.”

 

Altair shrugged with his shoulders, “I just thought you might want to take a break as well.” He thought Jen was  good but she wasn’t so good as if she could keep on tattooing Malik with just one hand while she was eating with the other one. “It’s going to take a while until you’re done.”

 

Jen eyed him for a moment, then her smile widened. “Sandwich is alright with me… get me whatever you’re getting your friend,” she hummed and put her surgical mask back on, the room filled with the buzzing noise of the tattoo machine again. Malik though looked as if he was about to fall asleep - he had somehow managed to find a peaceful place in his mind where he was now hiding. Altair had given up on trying to get Malik involved into a conversation after the first thirty minutes of the session. He’d asked Malik if it hurt and Malik had looked at him and said, “Take a razorblade and cut yourself on the same spot a couple of times. That’s how it feels and yes, it hurts.” Apparently, the more the needle moved across Malik’s shoulder bone -or more like any bone- the more it hurts because Altair could watch how he would scrunch his nose ever so lightly or how his fingers would curl into a fist.

 

Altair pushed himself upwards, “Alright.” He nodded once and risked a quick look into his wallet. “Be right back,” he said.

 

The air outside was wonderfully fresh - it smelled too much of sanitizer in the tattoo parlor and it reminded him of the many hours he’d spent at the hospital. It was probably just the same for Malik. Altair wished he could say things had gotten back to normal but that would have been a lie. Malik’s only been back for a few months and they still sort of danced around each other and while Altair wanted to ignore it most of the times, there were still too many unanswered questions standing between them like a wall. On some days Altair thought they would never make it to overcome it but then there were days like this which got his hopes up again. He’d been more than happy when Malik asked him if he would keep him company when he'd get his tattoo done.

 

When people asked him what he and Malik were, if they were in a relationship, a couple or anything else really, he had a hard time to answer that because he simply didn’t know. They were more than friends, they still lived in the same apartment, they shared the same bed and when Malik was having night terrors, he even let Altair hug him and hold him close until he’d calmed down. They were something in between, dancing on the thin line between being friends and the ‘I really wanna grow old, gray and wrinkly with you’ but they were stuck, floating in zero gravity and Altair wanted to just hold on to something to get his feet back down to earth.

 

He ordered a mushroom sandwich with swiss cheese, onions, bellpeppers and jalapeño since Malik liked eating spicy (as Altair liked too). He did the same for Jen but without the jalapeño because he didn’t know if she liked it. Altair only grabbed himself a bag of potato chips, took two bottles of coke outside the fridge and paid for everything in cash, wishing the teenage boy behind the counter a nice day. Altair glanced one last time at him, he thought he looked a little too shy to work in a place where he had to deal with customers all the time and he seemed miserable with having his long hair stuffed up underneath a hairnet. Not to mention his name, Altair had stared at his name tag the whole time he’d prepared the sandwiches, wondering just how the hell you pronounce it. Raton- Ratonhn…. Ratatouille… no! He’d given up eventually and just waved at him his good byes.

 

He’d been gone for maybe half an hour and when he returned he knew it would take at least another two hours before the outlines were done… hopefully. He took his seat back next to Malik, holding up the bag of sandwich. “Time for a break, isn’t it?”

 

Jen pulled the tattoo machine away from Malik’s arm, wiping one, two times across the spot she had just worked on. “Whatever you got, it smells delicious,” she said with a smirk and put everything neatly away, then wrapped Malik up. “I don’t eat in here, we go in the back,” she explained and beckoned at them to follow her.

 

“Swiss cheese?”, Malik asked as Altair unwrapped the sandwich in front of him before he leaned back in the chair he’d taken, crossing one leg over the other and ripped open his chips. “I know you like it,” he said and Malik looked at him. “I thought you wouldn’t remember, that must be ages ago I’ve told you that.”

 

Altair shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning. “I remember everything.”

 

“Huh.” Malik picked up his sandwich, holding it a bit awkwardly. “I have to see for myself if that’s true.”

 

Altair sent him a quick sideway glance. If he wouldn’t know Malik better he would have almost said it was a pitiful attempt to flirt with him. Almost. He nodded and munched on a chip. “You have to then,” was all he said before they fell into a comfortable conversation with Jen telling them about different tattoo styles and how ridiculous some wishes of her customers were and that she would turn them away if she thought they hadn’t really given a thought about what they wanted her to get done on them.

 

It wasn’t long before the break was over, Jen moving the needle back down Malik’s skin and it was about to get dark outside when she turned the machine off for good, pulling down her mask and looked at Malik. “I give you a few instructions you should follow the next couple of days if you want to avoid infections.” Malik nodded and Altair listened to her as well, trying to remember everything so if Malik had a question about it later again he could answer it maybe.

 

Malik paid for the session since he and Jen had agreed for him to pay her by the hour and not by the size or the colors of the tattoo. “See you in six weeks Malik,” Jen said and smiled before she dismissed them out into the streets.

 

xxx

  


Altair sat comfortable in front of his laptop, one knee pulled up against his chest the other leg stretched out on which he balanced the computer on. He pushed his glasses up, still not used to them and he was close to take them off any second now. He’d only gotten them a few weeks ago since he couldn’t see very well when reading or staring a computer or TV screen. He basically only wore them for work or late at home when he was using his laptop like he did know - but he also knew if he’d take them off, Malik would scowl at him for not wearing them. He was currently clicking through a lot of tattoo pages, reading about the right aftercare. “The longer the scab stays on the better,” he called across his shoulder and over the sound of splashing water coming from the bathroom since Malik was getting ready for bed, washing his face and brushing his teeth. Malik hummed, he’d heard Altair. “I just leave it alone mostly,” he said and walked back into the living room, wearing his sweats already and chest bare, rubbing his face with a towel. “I think that’s the best.” He placed the towel over the back of the couch next to Altair’s head and leaned forwards, reading across his shoulder. Again, if Altair wouldn’t know Malik better he would have said he did it on purpose to mess with his mind. He could smell the mint on Malik’s breath with how close he was and the fading traces of his cologne he’d worn through out the day. “What’s that?”, Malik said and pointed at the screen. “Scroll down a little, would you?”

 

Altair did and he watched how Malik’s eyes flew across the screen, his lips moving silently to the words. He didn’t think he was imagine things, but Malik was in a better mood ever since they had left the tattoo studio. The ride back home in the cab had been silent for most of the times but Altair had seen how Malik’s whole frame was more relaxed as it had been the last couple of days, his shoulders not as tense anymore and his jaw not clenched. He was glad for it because it was probably the first time in a couple of weeks now he’d seen Malik at this much ease - the tattoo probably hold more of a meaning to him than Altair could imagine. He also hadn’t missed the fact that if everything would go according to plan, the tattoo would be done just in time for the first anniversary of Kadar’s death.

 

“Alright,” Malik nodded and turned his head just so to look at Altair. “Thank you.” He then glanced back at the screen, noticing the dozen tabs Altair had currently open, all of them filled with information about how to treat a newly done tattoo. “Somebody could think you want to become a tattoo artist as well with how much you read about it”, he noted and Altair smiled, shaking his head.

 

“Just want to make sure your arm gets the best treatment it can get,” he said and since he had to go back to the optician to get his glasses adjusted once more, he pushed them back up his nose once more.

 

“I swear you look so… nerdy with your glasses. You couldn’t pick a pair that doesn’t scream Hipster, could you?” Malik chuckled.

 

“The sales lady said they look good on me,” Altair huffed and pulled them off, looking at them again. “You’re in an awfully good mood, you know that?” And while Malik wasn’t a little grumpy all the time and could act normal around Altair, the moments in which he was joking and acting lightly, almost carefree like he did now, were rare - and Altair loved them because they reminded him of the man he fell in love with all the more. Those moments made it almost look as if his old Malik had returned… as if underneath the hurt, broken shell were the remains of the man he’d once known hiding, waiting to get out in the open again.

 

“I’m probably high on my pain medication,” Malik grunted with a smirk although Altair thought it wasn’t funny not when Malik had to take the highest dose the first few weeks he’d come back home again, making him look and act like a zombie.

 

“Sure”, he groaned. He looked at Malik’s arm, it was wrapped up in clear film and while only the outlines were done today he could already imagine how the final tattoo would look. “Totally hasn’t something to do with the tattoo you got today which, by the way, makes you look hot.”

 

There. He said it. This was probably the most risky, flirty thing he’d said to Malik the whole time since he’d gotten back because - because ever since then, their relationship had been pretty asexual. Malik had changed during his time in rehab and Altair thought it was because he not only had gotten medical treatment there but also psychological treatment. It was a long way for him still, Altair knew that but they had to take little steps eventually.

 

“I do?”

 

Altair thought Malik could drop the act of being innocent - he knew himself how the tattoo  made him look. He’d gained some muscles in his time at rehab and Malik was very stubborn when it came to training his left arm as well since he didn’t want for the stump to lose all its muscles. He’d learned different training techniques during his stay at the rehab center and now made sure to follow them at home just as well. His shoulders had become just a little broader, his bicep thicker and waist slimmer. Altair would be lying if he said Malik held no effect on him - of course he did, more than ever.

 

Malik snorted and pushed himself off the couch. “Whatever you say then.” And just like that, the moment was gone again, the wall Malik had built around himself as thick as ever, made of ice and giving Altair a hard time to break through it. Right now he’d thought he might have found a small weak point, a place where the wall was melting but no, nope, Malik had fixed that right away.

 

Altair gritted his teeth, having enough of it. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, placed the laptop next to him onto the couch and quickly got on his feet, just as Malik came back out of the bathroom again, shirt on now and about to enter their bedroom. He reached for his wrist, making him turn around. “Wait,” Altair said and his heart beat wildly, pressing up against inside his chest making it feel like as if it was about to jump out any moment now. He took a step closer, trying to ignore Malik’s confused look on his face which soon turned into a frown as he narrowed his eyes at Altair.

 

“I mean it,” Altair said, too shy to meet Malik’s gaze now, his thumb rubbing over the spot where he could feel Malik’s pulse beating underneath his skin. “”You look good, with or without the tattoo,” he said eventually and he was floating outside his body, watching himself from above when he leaned forwards, pressing a light kiss to Malik’s cheek, lips lingering there just a moment too long before he withdrew again. Altair blinked his eyes, looking at Malik.

 

He said nothing, his nostrils flaring as he was breathing staring into Altair’s gaze. He could see how the muscle in Malik’s jaw twitched, how he gritted his teeth as if he was about to say something. Altair could see the words forming there but all Malik did was opening and then closing his mouth again. He shook his wrist free. “Turn off the lights when you come to bed,” he said, turned around and left the door ajar as he walked into their bedroom.

 

Altair stood there, feet rooted to the ground knees weak. On most days he simply didn’t get Malik. Like today, when their dance on the thin border between friendship and love was interrupted by a gap opening up between.

 

On most days it just hurt.

  
  



End file.
